


towards an uncertain future

by Quillium



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, Original Character-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillium/pseuds/Quillium
Summary: The witch who lives at the edge of the woods on Eiyan Island is, as most witches of great repute, not actually a witch, but a devil fruit user.If you tilt your head a bit to the side and squint at her, perhaps you could somewhat see how she gets the reputation of a witch--her hair is long, her posture is quite bad, and she has a terrible fondness for unfashionable bucket hats.OR: The witch doesn't quite want to leave her cozy cottage and safe home, but the idea of family and adventure calls all the same.
Kudos: 16





	towards an uncertain future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaffeineDammit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeineDammit/gifts).



> "Why Quill," I see you saying, "Why in the seven blazes did you abandon your decent fics for this nonsense?" The answer is, of course, that humans love making others happy, and in this case, I want to make myself happy. I really love this story, and I hope you will, too. Special thanks to CaffeineDammit for giving me the courage to go through with my nonsense. Don't forget to take care of yourself, yeah? Sleep well, drink water, eat some food. Taking care of yourself is hard, but I have faith in you, and I'm so, so proud.

Ace falls sick on…

Actually, Thatch isn’t really sure about the date. He hasn’t read a newspaper in weeks (that’s Marco’s job, staying on top of world news and all that nonsense) and days on the sea sort of bleed together.

Not the point. Point is: Ace is sick. At some point. In time. Here or there. A point in time that is not important at all, and no, Thatch isn’t just saying that because he doesn’t know what day of the week it is.

Thatch is a responsible and upstanding member of…

Of a pirate ship.

Which means he can have the freedom to forget what day of the week it is and still be well within his rights to forget whatever he wants!

Shut up, Marco.

The reason that this is important isn’t just because Ace has never in all their experience fallen sick--

(although that does make Fossa think Ace is cursed which. They’ve literally been at sea for weeks now with nobody but their family  _ who would’ve cursed their youngest brother??? _ )

\--and it’s not because the sickness is uncommon--

(“Congrats,” Ririka says, blowing her drying nails, “The great 2nd commander of the strongest fleet of pirates on this sea was brought down by a common cold.  _ Now _ will you wear a fucking shirt, Ace?”

Ace, face white as sea foam and forehead hot enough to instantly cook an egg on--yes, Thatch tried, it was for  _ science _ \--spits out a stubborn  _ no _ that makes Ririka mad enough to try and claw his eyes out.

The nurses on their ship put up with so much.)

\--it’s because Ace falls sick right after they run out of cold medication.

“This is ridiculous,” Marco says, face smushed into Haruta’s stomach. She pats his head in a  _ there, there _ sort of motion, clearly trying not to laugh out loud at him. “I don’t know how I missed this.”

“Sleep deprivation,” chirps Namur, who is always right but should never say it.

“You’re overworked,” agrees Blenheim, hypocrite he is.

“You’re not a nurse,” Ririka, whose face is in Haruta’s shoulder, moans. “How did  _ I _ miss this?”

Little shits that they are, they start the cycle again: “Sleep deprivation.”

“You’re overworked.”

Ririka gives them all the finger.

The rest of them burst into laughter.

“It should go away on its own though, right?” Ace asks from the infirmary bed. Stubborn idiot tried to leave until they promised they’d have the meeting by his bedside.

“No,” Ririka says, and doesn’t explain, which probably goes to show how sleep-deprived she is. 

Ririka usually explains all the ins and outs of an illness until the patient is bleeding from the ears listening to it all.

“Oh,” Ace says awkwardly. And then, “Uh, it won’t kill me though.”

Ririka makes direct eye contact with Ace. “It wouldn’t, for a normal person.”

A beat of silence.

“And I’m a normal person--?”

“Don’t pull that shit on me, Portgas.”

“Oi! I’m perfectly normal!”

“No normal person would say that sort of shit, they don’t like acknowledging that they’re average.”

“It’s a perfectly normal thing to be--”

“Anyways, it could end up killing you.”

Ace joins Ririka and Marco in pressing his face against Haruta, who looks to the ceiling with an expression of longsuffering patience.

“I hate everything,” Ace says.

“Chances are slim,” Ririka says. “But best not to take them.”

“All we need is ordinary cold medication though?”

“Yes.”

“And the closest inhabited island is--”

“Less than a day away.”

“Why are we all so worried, then?”

Marco and Ririka’s heads pop up at the same time and smash against each other.

“There’s nothing to be worried about!” Ririka declares.

“My mistake can be fixed!” Marco cheers.

Ace’s fever gets too high and he passes out.

But it’s fine. The next island will have the medicine they need and this will be a funny story in the future.

__

Because, as Ace so aptly puts it, “I’m cursed”:

The next island doesn’t have a doctor, a nurse, anything resembling medical care, let alone the medicine they need.

What they  _ do _ have is Great Suspicion towards the pirate ship that landed on their docks, and a sudden stubbornness that makes them lock their doors and shut themselves inside their homes, determined not to come out until the Whitebeards leave.

“I hate everything,” Marco declares.

“It’s alright,” says Ririka, who’s face clearly shows that It Is Not Alright. “We can just use some medicinal herbs which might grow naturally on this island.”

“We  _ really _ need to start an on-ship garden,” Thatch, who’s been petitioning for it so he can have  _ fresh grown fruit and vegetables _ , mutters.

“Only if you put in the work,” Blamenco, who is Overworked and Tired, yells from on board the deck.

“Bastard!” Thatch calls back cheerfully, blowing a kiss at his brother and turning back to Marco and Ririka. “Okay, Ririka draws what the herbs look like and we go looking, sounds like a plan?”

A chorus of  _ aye _ s, because his family just loves living up to stereotypes.

(Thatch loves them so much. They’re the best.)

“I can help look,” Ace, who is bedridden and shouldn’t even  _ be _ out here, let alone saying such nonsense, offers from his spot  _ leaning against the railing _ .

Thatch doesn’t have any gray hairs but if he does it’s because of Ace. It will be because of Ace. 

He’ll have a head full of white hair just like Oyaji before even turning 40 and it’ll all be because of his youngest brother who is an  _ absolute idiot _ with no sense of self-preservation.

“No,” Ririka says, “You cannot.”

And, because the nurse's word is law, that is that and Ace is punted off to the medbay with a pout.

“Now that we got rid of him,” Ririka says, with the utmost smugness (not that it’s undeserved, no, this is  _ Ace _ they’re talking about--stupidly stubborn to the max), “split off into teams of two to find the herbs so you can minimalize the stupidity. Thatch, you’re with Marco.”

Thatch pouts. “Why am I getting assigned someone? Don’t trust me to pick my own partner?”

“Last time we left you alone, you spent the next five hours climbing trees and collecting apples.”

“They were surprisingly sweet! Do you know how hard it is to have an apple tree with naturally sweet apples? That island was magic and I can’t believe you guys didn’t appreciate it enough.”

“We aren’t all obsessed with apples, Thatch.”

“I have a  _ healthy appreciation for food _ as the  _ head chef _ \--”

“Anyways, Marco, keep him in line.”

Marco gives a lazy mock-salute and hops onto Thatch’s back. “Come on, it’ll be fun. When have you ever been opposed to spending time with your favourite brother?”

“I thought that was Ace.”

“Just for that, next time we’re at a winter island, you can freeze.”

“Ace has fire, too.”

Marco sticks out his tongue and readjusts his legs so they’re tightly wrapped around Thatch’s torso. “Onwards, my faithful steed! To the sunset and beyond!”

Ririka throws a pinecone at Marco. It bounces off his forehead and falls right by Thatch’s feet.

“Violence!” Marco yells.

“Stay on task!” Ririka yells back.

Marco huffs, and Thatch, resigning himself to giving his brother a piggyback ride, starts moving towards the forest.

The forest which is disgustingly bare of herbs. Horribly so. Like…  _ painfully _ .

There are a lot of mushrooms, which Thatch appreciates and Marco doesn’t let him appreciate because Marco is evil and the worst brother in the whole world.

“Love you, too,” Marco says drily, pulling Thatch onwards by the back of his shirt.

“I hate you,” Thatch moans, heels dragging against the forest floor and occasionally uprooting a (beautiful, possibly delicious, if only Marco would let him  _ examine it _ ) mushroom.

Marco hums, except it’s more high pitched and young and. Not Marco.

Marco drops Thatch. Thatch hits his head on a tree root and complains loudly to Marco, who calls him a baby and asks, “You hear that?”

“The kid singing?”

“Didn’t everyone in the village shut themselves indoors?”

“Maybe they abandoned their children to be eaten by the pirates,” Marco teases, in that worried little way he does when he thinks too hard. A crease appears on his forehead, like he’s getting anxious that the kids’ parents really  _ are _ shite enough to do that.

Thatch sticks his hands in his pockets and runs the possibilities through his head.

First, they’re children of the villagers who shut themselves in and the villagers are absolute shit parents.

Second, they’re children of the villagers who  _ didn’t _ shut themselves in and are therefore not worried… maybe because the Whitebeards have a pretty good rep for protecting innocents…?

Third, they’re children of people who  _ aren’t _ part of the village they docked at, and there’s another group of people.

Fourth, it’s a ghost and Thatch and Marco are about to be murdered.

He’s saved from thinking up a fifth possibility when a ball rolls over and a child yells, “Haru, you get it!”

“I got it last time!” Another child’s voice answers petulantly, even as small feet and overalls come into view. “Lazy!”

“You’re just closer, it’s  _ logic _ .”

“Big words to mean you don’t want to get it yours--” Silence as Haru apparently registers Thatch and Marco’s presence. She backs away, screaming, “Stranger danger, stranger danger!” which is both the most hilarious and adorable thing ever.

“Ah, wait,” Marco holds up a hand. “Do you know where we could get these herbs?”

Somehow this makes the kids stop screaming and start inching towards them again.

Small children continue to be the most baffling existence in the world.

“Oh!” Haru brightens. “You’re looking for the witch! You’re not going to kill her, right?”

Marco exchanges looks with Thatch and mouths  _ a witch? _

Thatch shrugs.

“Uh, no,” Marco tries to smile. It comes out really awkward because Thatch’s brother is lame as all heck. “We’re not going to hurt the witch so long as she doesn’t hurt us. We just want medicine for our sick brother.”

Haru nods sagely. “That makes sense. The witch apparently eats people and raises the dead, so you’ve come to the right place.”

Thatch is Concerned. “She  _ eats _ people?”

Haru gives him a look like he’s stupid. “Of course not, why would she do that?”

“But you just said--”

“It’s okay,” Haru pats his knee, “ _ Apparently _ is a big word, the witch had to teach me what it meant.”

Thatch is torn between outrage and thinking this kid is the cutest creature alive.

“Okay,” says Marco, who has always been the more patient one between the two of them. “Could you guide us to the witch’s home?”

Haru shifts and then, throwing a glance at her friend, “Uh, you can’t tell my mom, okay? She  _ hates _ the witch.”

Marco doesn’t look nervous, smiling easily as he says, “Cross my heart,” and makes the little hand-movements to follow, but Thatch knows he is.

This witch could spell trouble for them.

“Okay,” Haru says, and the two children guide the pirates to the witch of the island.

__

The witch who lives at the edge of the woods on Eiyan Island is, as most witches of great repute, not actually a witch, but a devil fruit user.

If you tilt your head a bit to the side and squint at her, perhaps you could  _ somewhat _ see how she gets the reputation of a witch--her hair is long, her posture is quite bad, and she has a terrible fondness for unfashionable bucket hats.

Which are  _ like _ the pointy witch hats of legend--if, of course, you chopped off the pointy bits and sort of squished it down until it was like a fuzzy sunhat without enough of a brim to be useful in any way.

“Witch!” Haru yells, climbing over the little picket white fence and flopping on her face in a dirt garden, then immediately getting up and running to the witch. “I brought people to see you!”

“Haru,” the witch says, licking her thumb and wiping at the dirt on Haru’s face, “What have we said about climbing the fence?”

Looking terribly put-out, Haru folds her hands behind her back and mumbles, “Don’t do it because it’s dangerous.”

“Good girl. Did you finish your chores?”

“I’m almost done!”

“Almost isn’t fully done. Go help your mom do the laundry.”

Haru gasps and covers her mouth. “How did you know that I skipped laundry?”

The witch taps the side of her head and smiles, a wry, mischievous thing. “Witch, remember? My magic powers tell me when silly girls don’t do their work. Now go, go, while I talk to these men about boring adult things.”

Haru pouts, but she and her friend leave, waving  _ bye-bye! _ and almost-tripping on a pebble on the path.

“We’re not here to cause any trouble,” Thatch says immediately. “One of our brothers caught a cold and we’re just here to buy medicine.”

“How will you pay me?” the witch asks, standing up and taking off her hat. 

She wipes away the sweat with the back of her hand and, with a flick of the wrist, the hat lands neatly on the doorknob of her cottage.

“Whatever coin both parties agree is reasonable,” Marco says smoothly.

“What use have I for coin?”

“What  _ do _ you have use for, then?”

“Depends on where your strengths are.”

“I can’t really do anything but cook and fight,” Thatch offers awkwardly. “But I’m sure that we can find whatever it is you want--”

“Cook a dish for me and I’ll give you a single sprout.”

“We need more than that.”

“If I like the dish, we can continue negotiation.”

_ Great _ , Thatch thinks.  _ Ace’s life depends on how much this random woman likes my cooking _ .

“And if you don’t like it?”

“Then I’ll think of something else. I’ll give you the sprout whether it’s good or not--so long as it isn’t intentionally horrible or poisoned, of course.”

“Of course,” Marco agrees smoothly. “Thatch has to cook for our entire family, would you be okay with coming onto our ship to eat?”

“Just leave it in the mailbox whenever you’re ready. Put the dish in, close the mailbox, open it again.”

“Wait, I--”

“Okay,” Marco says. “Is that all?”

“Yes. Please give it to me before sunset tonight.”

“Wait, do you have any allergies or--”

“None. See you tonight.”

__

They leave the dish in the mailbox (somehow making it fit), close it, and when they open the mailbox again, there’s a single dried sprout and a note writing  _ come again tomorrow and we’ll negotiate further _ .

**Author's Note:**

> You can hit me up on tumblr @quilliumwrites Get lots of sleep, I love y'all <3


End file.
